an ode to legs, of all things
by paper piper
Summary: maka's legs are really something. poor soul. -soul/maka


Maka's legs are really something. Poor Soul.

This is something I came up with for fun to torment one of my favorite anime characters. Enjoy!

I DO NOT OWN SOUL EATER OR ANY OF THESE SONGS, BUT IF I DID, I WOULD TORMENT THEM ALL, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

* * *

><p>i.<p>

Her bone structure screams, **'Touch her! Touch her!'**

And she's got the curse of curves…

It seems I'm too hip to keep tight-lipped

Soul never considered himself a horn dog by any stretch. Sure, he was a healthy teenage boy, with teenaged boy needs, but he was respectful of the women he knew, and though he did find some of them attractive, it was never enough to think obsessively about it, or to do something about said attraction.

Maka's legs were another matter entirely, unfortunately.

Sometimes that ridiculous pair would be all he could think about in class, so close to his own legs and quite innocently crossed as she leaned over her desk, taking diligent notes. Maka was not unaware that he did not pay the slightest attention in class, and of course, she'd be annoyed with his inattention, and even fearful for his grades. She had not the vaguest idea what the source of his distraction could be, so she would sometimes silently fume at him without saying a word—of course, that only exacerbated the problem, because Maka's pale thighs would flush in indignation, and he would be even more distracted than before.

One day, she hissed out of the corner of her mouth: "Soul! Look alive! We have a test coming up."

He rolled his eyes and swallowed a violent flush. "Cool your jets, Maka. I'll just read your notes later." He leaned over his closed notebook and

"You won't learn it well that way," she reprimanded him.

"I'm not trying to learn it _well_," he reminded her, "just passing is fine. I'm no anal-retentive perfectionist like you."

She hmpfed in agitation and shifted in her seat, returning to the lecture. His ear twitched, and one blood red eye opened to glance sideways at those perfect legs again.

_Hmm, they look tasty…_

Shocked at his own train of thought, he glanced up at Maka to see if she had somehow felt his words. She hadn't. She was still furiously taking notes, and, he could tell by her frown and by the flush on her thighs, still angry with his slovenliness.

"Hey Maka," he said, and she looked at him. "If you don't stop frowning like that, you'll have ugly lines all over your face like a cat lady. Or Sid."

The flush on her thighs was joined by the red rage on her cheeks, and Soul promptly received a Maka CHOP!, effectively beating his face into his books.

* * *

><p>ii.<p>

She's saying that's okay, hey baby do what you please

I have the stuff that you want

I am the thing that you **need**

Maka's legs didn't always have such an amiable affect on him as they did in class. The worst times were when they were home, alone, when he had nothing but classwork he would pretend to do whilst meditating on those milky white columns that protrude from his meister's skirts. This particular night, Soul was watching tv in the living room, actually enjoying the movie, _Hot Fuzz_, and laughing like the teenaged boy he is at the ridiculousness. He was not thinking about those legs at all that night, when she suddenly opened the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel. He hadn't looked up, knowing it to be improper, but Maka quite innocently stepped into the family room and asked him what he was watching.

Soul turned to her on instinct, answering, "Hot Fuzz, one the funniest I've seen recently," as Simon Pegg did something hilarious again, but he quickly forgot the actor upon coming eye-level to Maka's left thigh. He stopped in mid-sentence, blinking hard, and slowly looking up to her face, expecting a Maka CHOP! But none came, because she wasn't paying attention. She was watching the screen, occasionally laughing just as he had been doing, with nothing but that tiny towel on and thinking nothing of it.

_Apparently Blair has become a bit of an influence in this house…_ Soul thought.

He couldn't decide if it was a good thing, as he tried to sit politely and not stare at that perfect flesh adjacent to his right ear. Someone who didn't know Soul well wouldn't have been able to tell he was agitated, but that right ear turned a scalding red. He kept glancing at that leg, his eye roving from the slender ankle, over the strong and lean calf, over her sweet knee, to the tempting thigh that disappeared under the towel. He was almost shaking with the effort to keep his hands in his lap.

"Maka, dammit, go put some damned clothes on!" he finally cried. "I don't want to see you half-naked!"

Maka looked down at him in surprise and embarrassment. She half-mumbled, half yelled back, "Fine, sorry for _offending_ your _delicate_ sensibilities! I just forgot!" She ran to her room—he did not forget to watch her legs scurry away—and slammed the door.

Soul sighed and leaned back into the couch; he already forgot what was happening in the movie.

_So uncool._

* * *

><p>iii.<p>

**Nice legs**, Daisy dukes, make a man go

W00t! W00t!

As far as Soul was concerned, jealousy is the worst feeling in the world. It is such a helpless, raging emotion that one can really nothing reasonable about. He was not by nature a jealous person because there was little he cared about, but Maka was a different matter entirely.

Although he had no real claims on her, he had felt for some time that they were a pair, like peanut butter and jelly, like milk and Oreos, like the sun and the sky. He was unaccustomed to other guys taking a liking to her in any significant way, though he knew they had much to like about her. Maka was kind, smart, determined, friendly, and she had a positive outlook on people.

To sweeten the deal: that _body_. _That damned body_.

He did not miss the admiration in Kidd's eyes (they were symmetrical, after all), nor the blushing glances that Crona sent her way, though she sure did. Maka cut quite a figure in her long black cloak that hung in contrast to her school girl blouse, sweater vest, and skirt. The skirt especially, was his favorite part, but it bothered him to think that other guys felt the same.

One day he said to her, "Maka, maybe you should get some new clothes."

She looked up from the book she was reading in surprise. "Really? That'd be nice, but I don't really need them."

Soul scratched his neck uncomfortably and replied, "Well, maybe you _do_."

Now she narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

He decided to come out with it, then. "Your skirt gets on my nerves."

"Why?" She shut the book and looked him full on now. "It's just a skirt. I always wear it."

He wanted to rip his hair out in frustration, did he really have to explain it? "Maka, it's too damned short! It's- It's- indecent!"

Now she was taken aback. "Why are you looking at my legs, Soul?" A smile worked its way to her lips. She crossed her, _ugh_, beautiful legs and rested her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on her knee. She formed one beautiful, fluid pose topped with an amused face.

"I'm not looking at your legs, Maka," he asserted, "cool guys see women naked all the time, so this doesn't faze me. But everyone else is, and you should preserve your modesty."

She was unconvinced, but she shrugged her shoulders. "Well then, when my observers make themselves known and complain to me personally, I'll buy some new clothes. Till then, you _cool_ guys don't concern me."

* * *

><p>iv.<p>

I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase

Damn baby, you frustrate me

I know **you're mine all mine all mine**

But you look so good it hurts sometimes

When Maka was sick or injured, those were the worst days. He was more intuned to his attachment to her when she was unsettled; he would sit at her side all day in the infirmary if necessary—and of course, it always was—just to make sure she was alright. Everyone assured him she was, of course, but he was never convinced.

Then again, it was a great excuse to just admire her in one of his favorite expressions: at peace, first of all, and second, silent. Maka asleep brought the same feelings to him that little bunnies, puppies, and kittens brought to girls. She was thoroughly adorable with her large eyes closed, eye lashes resting against the tops of her cheekbones, pale hair tossed every which way across the pillow, and her body splayed open in repose.

Soul was more protective of her in these moments, too, watching her completely vulnerable, revealed to him in a strange way. He knew her face would frown, and she would grip the sheets and curl into a ball when a nightmare hit her. He knew that when she wasn't breathing easily, sweat would break out on her brow and a flush on her cheeks. He knew when she was troubled when she tossed and turned and grunted awake several times. He knew when she was dead tired when she did not move at all.

Once, she was very troubled. Maka turned first onto her left arm, then her right, then lay on her back for a while, before flipping over onto her stomach. After repeating the process a few times, she put her head under a pillow. Soul sat quietly watching for a while, but he soon heard her quietly weeping with the sheets over her face, and then he stepped forward and unveiled her. He wrapped his strong arms around her easily, naturally, and pressed his lips to her forehead. She sat in his arms for a while, still dreaming, still troubled, while he whispered nothings to her and kept her firmly in his embrace. He enjoyed meanwhile the softness of her against him, how right and real his whole body felt when she was touching him. He stroked her hair and ran his fingers through its strands, knowing it comforted her. Maka's breathing soon calmed, and he released her, tucking her back into the sheets. He sat back on his stool and rested his head on the foot of the bed—but _only for a moment_, he promised himself, since she was doing well now.

Soul slept the afternoon away without realizing it, and when Stein stirred him to go home, he rubbed his eyes and pulled on his jacket in a stupor. He glanced down at Maka for a quick check before following the doctor out the door, when he was suddenly wide, wide awake. Maka's face was turned away from him, but she had kicked off half the sheets, leaving a long view of her bare leg, highlighted by the cackling, setting sun.

He rubbed his hand down his face from his forehead in desperation. He moved to pull the sheet over her before walking out, to go home and have dreams of a certain kind, _again_.

* * *

><p>v.<p>

Did you scream enough to make her cry?...

Turn out the lights

Turn on the radio

How can we fight when I'm too busy loving you?

**She's a lady and ladies shouldn't be messed with**

Sometimes his body got the better of him, and Soul needed to avoid her for several days, hell, sometimes several weeks afterward. However noble his intentions were, it often ended in a fight due a misunderstanding he could not afford to clear up.

"What are you talking about, Soul? I know you've been avoiding me!" she shouted one night. She softened a bit after that. "If something's bothering you, as your meister, you should tell me so we can fix it."

"Nothing's bothering me," he said over his shoulder, heading to his room. "Just go away, Maka, you're being a pest."

"Our Soul Resonance is going to go to hell, I hope you know!" she cried. "We have to be able to communicate better than this!"

"I'd be happy to, but your favorite way of communicating is screaming, apparently." He shut the door.

"Oh, no, you're not!" She threw open the door; Soul was pulling his shirt off. He tossed it in a corner in aggravation.

"Maka, what do you want from me? I tell you there's nothing wrong when there isn't, but you hunt me down and tell me there is!"

"I want you to be honest with me, Soul," she replied, calmer now. "Our bond cannot suffer." That last statement held gravity to it.

"Pfft," he dismissed it. "Our bond isn't going to suffer anything if you leave now." He turned away and started pulled his comforter back.

Maka fisted her hands and leaped for him, tackling him to the ground, crying, "Soul, I'm so sick of you walking away when there's a problem! Just say what you want to say!"

But Soul couldn't say anything, not at that moment, not with her sitting on his stomach, one perfect leg on either side of him, her face and hair and _smell_ looming over him like a dinner demanding to be devoured. She was frowning, tears were almost in her eyes, and her legs peaking from under her shorts were flushing again, turning pink and warm against him, and Soul just wanted her naked and wide-eyed on his floor, crying his name. He closed his eyes.

"Maka, you'd better leave now."

She trembled when she said, "No, Soul, dammit, you're going to come clean this time."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Quick as a flash, he flipped them over. Maka was on her back on the floor, and he was the one hovering over her, his waist between her legs, and by the gods, she was wide-eyed and innocent. He moved one hand to touch her knee, gripped it, felt the bone under the skin, and watched her cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"Soul?"

He did not answer, but leaned down close to her ear. As he did so, he hand trailed up her thigh softly, like a feather against the _skin he knew would be this soft_.

"Leave. Now," he warned.

Without a word, she picked herself up off his floor and walked back to her room.

* * *

><p>vi.<p>

Do you think that I can some **jiggy jiggy**?

Maybe gets a little finger sticky sticky?

You my electrical lip balm flavor

I gotta do ya till the **next song saves ya**

Teasing her was the best, though. Although he had a hard time admitting it, he loved going to Kidd's fancy parties because it gave himself and Maka a chance to dress up. Although he dressed rather simply and typically on a daily basis, suits were high on his list of favorite things to wear. He wouldn't say he felt like a prince or a gentleman when he buttoned his shirt over his toned chest and slid the blazer over his broad shoulders, but he felt _cool_. He felt even better when he came into the kitchen, asking Maka to tie his tie for him, and saw her appreciative smile.

She would lean in and wrap the tie around his neck and then knot the tie neatly, and Soul had an opportunity to smell her soft hair. It fell down her back in waves tonight, as she had taken time to curl it to compliment her forest green dress. It was short to emphasize her legs—_ah, gods, her legs again_—and had a simple, slim 1960s figure.

"What do you think?" Maka smiled and stepped back. She was immaculate, lovely.

Soul grinned, then slammed a hand on the counter and leaned in close, too close. He had the satisfaction of watching her blush and stammer, then fiddle with her hair for a moment before whispering in a husky tone, "I like the tie."

Soul leaned away and headed for the door, calling her not to be too slow.

* * *

><p>vii.<p>

Hike up your skirt **a little more**

And show your world to me

He did kiss her eventually—he _was_ a cool guy, after all. Cool guys kiss the girls they love.

It was actually quite unexpected, but it did include her legs, of course. Those damned legs, those cursed legs, with her sinful curves and eyes like an angel and lips like candy, and those _legs_. He hadn't meant to, but he actually kissed her leg before he kissed her lips.

Whoops, but can't be remedied.

There was nothing interesting about the day, no dramatic confession, no fights, either—nothing to excite or to agitate, or to logically cause this mammoth step in their relationship. Yet the time was right.

In one of Maka's more devoted moments, she had begged him to come into the forest and practice Soul Resonance for the Jinn Hunter, to which he reluctantly agreed. The practice was difficult, but unusually successful. They were both panting from exhaustion by the end of it, and he sat on the ground for a second, his hands in his pockets, and she sat opposite him on a log, grinning in triumph.

"We're going to turn you into a Death Scythe in no time at this rate," she exclaimed. He smiled at the success radiating form her face.

"Yeah, you will," he told her, simply conveying his confidence.

Maka smiled and crossed her legs. Soul blinked and, with difficulty, kept his eyes trained on her face as she went on, in raptures, how excited she was at their new technique, and how she couldn't wait to show up her no-good father. But he was still distracted, as ever, by those ravishing legs. He wondered what she would say if he just strolled over and grabbed the skirt that was climbing up her body and ripped it off entirely, just to stare forever and revere that body. He was sure a Maka CHOP! Would be in order.

Soul looked away a second, then looked again, unable to resist. He wanted to get caught up in those legs, twisted between them and chained down by them like a mutt—

And operating solely on that animalistic feeling, he stood and held out his hand to her. She took it, expecting him to help her up, but he only interlaced his fingers with hers and knelt before her crossed legs. Not taking his eyes off of her, he pressed his cheek to her thigh and sighed. He felt it immediately grow warm under his touch as she blushed furiously. He did not answer her murmur of, "What are you doing?" but only rubbed his cheek against that delicate white skin. Then, he did what he'd been dreaming of doing for months: he placed a chaste kiss on that skin, just below her skirt's hemline.

"Soul!"

She pulled him off her lap, and saw that his eyes were clouded over with awe of his own action and lust for more. She gasped, and then his eyes became riveted on her open mouth, and he lurched forward and covered it with his own. Easy, too easy, to completely overtake her with his body, and too easy to let his body overtake her. When he pulled away, her lips were chapped and her face was rosy. She was more magnificent than he'd ever seen her.

"I know you've been wanting to do that," she said after several moments, and smiled. "I heard you think it just before you…" and her eyes fell to her leg, then her cheeks heated up even more. Her green eyes rolled back up to his. "You've had quite a lot to think about recently."

"Not a lot," he replied, a grin covering his _very satisfied_ mouth. "Really just a couple things." He touched her thighs with his hands. She laughed and brushed his hands away.

"You feel better now?" she asked playfully.

He patted her cheek affectionately and put his forehead to hers. "Not until I've had every bit of you, honestly," he muttered. Then his eyes met hers and his devilish grin stretched, revealing all his teeth: "But your legs, what an excellent place to start."

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><p>Hope you like that! Here's the songs, if you're wondering. <strong>Please review! I need the feedback to continue writing.<strong>

i. "Curse of Curves," Cute Is What We Aim For; ii. "Dirty Diana," Michael Jackson; iii. "Starstruckk," 3OH!3; iv. "Your Body Is A Wonderland," John Mayer; v. "She's A Lady," Foreverthesickestkids; vi. "Fever for the Flava," Hot Action Cop; vii. "Crash Into Me," Dave Matthews Band


End file.
